The training ground was already alive when Alaric was dragged there the next morning.
Hunters sparred with wooden staves, their strikes sharp and loud against straw dummies. Children barely older than him were already running drills, sweat shining on their foreheads. The smell of earth and sweat filled the clearing.
Alaric groaned. "Yup. Smells like hard work. I hate it already."
The hunter escorting him didn't react, only pointed toward a tall man waiting by the dummies. His hair was dark and tied back, his arms lean but corded with muscle. A long scar ran from his cheek down across his jaw, giving him a permanent scowl even when he wasn't trying.
"This is Kael," the hunter said. "He'll oversee your training."
Kael crossed his arms, eyes narrowing on Alaric. "…This is the boy?" His voice was rough, unimpressed.
Alaric tilted his head, messy white hair sticking up like a bird's nest. "What, expecting taller? Sorry, I'm on the four-year-old plan."
A few of the nearby kids snorted, quickly hiding their laughs.
Kael's brow twitched. He stepped closer, towering over Alaric. "Cute. Let's see how long that mouth holds up once you're on the ground."
Alaric gulped, clutching his staff tighter. "…Noted. Guy's scary."
Ashen stood at the edge of the field, silver-gray eyes calm. The wards shimmered faintly around him, but his presence alone silenced the crowd of villagers who had gathered to watch.
Kael ignored them all. He pointed at a dummy. "Strike it."
Alaric blinked. "Again? I did that yesterday. Do I get a discount for repeats?"
"Strike it," Kael repeated, voice flat.
Alaric sighed, dragging his feet forward. He lifted the staff and gave the dummy a halfhearted tap. The straw rustled.
Kael's scarred brow twitched again. "…Pathetic. Put your weight behind it."
Alaric frowned, puffing his cheeks. "Hey, I'm four. You want muscle, you'll have to wait a decade."
"Then use mana," Kael said simply.
That shut him up. Alaric blinked, golden eyes wide. "Wait, I'm allowed to cheat?!"
Kael's lips twitched into something between a smirk and a sneer. "If you call it cheating, you'll never keep up. Do it."
Alaric hesitated, then glanced at Ashen. The undead's gaze was steady, silently telling him to try.
He sighed, focused, and pulled on the warm thread inside him. Life mana sparked through his small body, flowing into the staff.
The wood glowed faint green.
"Okay, okay, don't overdo it—" he muttered to himself, then swung.
The staff cracked hard against the dummy's chest. Straw exploded from the impact, scattering into the air like sparks.
Gasps rippled from the children watching.
Alaric blinked at the wreckage, panting. "…Uh. Oops?"
Kael raised a brow. "…Better. But sloppy. You wasted too much mana."
Alaric groaned, leaning on his staff. "Come on, it's my first try! I deserve at least a gold star."
Kael smirked faintly. "Stars don't save lives. Control does."
Alaric pouted. "…Harsh."
Kael pointed at another dummy. "Again."
Alaric groaned louder, dragging his staff through the dirt. "This is abuse. I want a lawyer."
The children laughed again. The adults didn't.
Kael waited, arms crossed.
Alaric huffed, focusing again. This time he tried to use less mana, just enough to make the staff glow faintly. He swung—harder, sharper.
Thud.
The dummy rocked but stayed standing.
Alaric smiled weakly. "See? Controlled."
Kael gave a curt nod. "Better. Again."
Alaric slumped. "…This is my life now, isn't it?"
Ashen's eyes softened ever so slightly from the sidelines.
And the training truly began.
The sun climbed higher as the training dragged on.
Alaric's arms already felt like jelly, his staff heavier with every swing. Sweat dripped down his forehead, plastering strands of snow-white hair against his skin. His small chest heaved with every breath.
"Again," Kael ordered.
Alaric groaned, slumping forward on the staff. "You're evil. Pure evil. I bet you were born yelling at babies."
Kael's scarred brow twitched. "Strike. Or I'll double your count."
Alaric's golden eyes widened in horror. "You can do that?!"
"Strike."
"Ughhh." With a dramatic whine, Alaric raised the staff again. He pulled on the threads of mana—just enough this time—and swung. The staff cracked into the dummy's chest with a solid thud.
"Better," Kael said, voice flat. "Again."
Alaric glared. "…I'm starting to think you only know one word."
A snicker came from the side. A group of children had gathered to watch, most of them older, maybe six or seven. They whispered, pointing.
"Look, the cursed boy's already tired."
"He swings like a rabbit."
"I bet he cries before noon."
Alaric's cheeks burned. He puffed his chest, glaring back. "Hey! I heard that! And for your information, rabbits are fast. Not a bad comparison."
The kids laughed harder. One boy, taller with a wooden bow slung over his shoulder, smirked. "What's the matter, white-hair? Scared of a little sweat?"
Alaric growled under his breath. "…Oh, it's on."
He turned back to the dummy, yanked harder on his mana, and swung with everything he had.
CRACK.
The dummy split at the chest, straw bursting out in a puff.
The crowd gasped. Even the smirking boy froze for a second.
Alaric staggered back, panting, then grinned smugly. "Ha! Who's the rabbit now?"
A few kids snorted. The bow boy scowled, clearly annoyed.
Kael, however, didn't look impressed. He stepped closer, crouching slightly so his sharp eyes met Alaric's. "Too much mana again. You'll burn yourself out before you've even finished training."
Alaric winced. "…But it looked cool."
"Looking cool doesn't keep you alive." Kael's tone was sharp, but his gaze wasn't cruel—just steady, demanding. "Control, boy. Always control."
Alaric's grin faltered. He tightened his grip on the staff, nodding faintly. "…Fine. I'll try again."
Kael straightened, gesturing toward another dummy. "Good. Move."
Alaric dragged himself over, muttering the whole way. "…Slave driver… muscle tyrant… training should be illegal…"
The kids laughed again, but this time it wasn't cruel. A few even seemed curious, leaning closer.
At the edge of the yard, Ashen stood silent as ever. But his presence weighed on the crowd like a shadow. None of the children dared step too close while those silver-gray eyes were watching.
Alaric swung again, this time with less mana. The blow landed firm, steady. Not flashy—but controlled.
Kael gave a faint nod. "…Better. You're learning."
Alaric slumped, panting, but his golden eyes lit with a stubborn fire. "…Told you. I'm not weak."
Kael's lips twitched. Not quite a smile—but almost. "We'll see."
The training wasn't over.
By the time Kael finally said, "Enough," Alaric's arms felt like they were going to fall off.
He dropped the staff onto the ground with a dramatic groan. "Finally. I was about to write my will."
A few of the kids laughed. The bow boy from earlier crossed his arms, frowning. "That's it? He just swings at straw? No wonder he looks so weak."
Kael's gaze slid toward the boy. "Do you want to test him, Ryn?"
The boy—Ryn—grinned. "Gladly."
Alaric blinked, pointing at himself. "Wait. Me? Against him? Isn't this illegal or something? I'm still technically a toddler."
"Pick up your staff," Kael ordered.
Alaric groaned, dragging himself upright. "I knew joining this village was a mistake…"
Ryn grabbed a wooden sword from the rack. He twirled it easily, smirking as he stepped into the yard. "Try not to cry, rabbit."
Alaric scowled, gripping his staff. His snow-white hair stuck out messily from sweat, golden eyes narrowed in stubborn fire. His small frame looked fragile next to Ryn's taller build, but his grip didn't waver.
The other children gathered closer, whispers buzzing. Even some adults paused their work, leaning near the fence to watch.
Kael raised his hand. "First to land a clean strike wins. Begin."
Ryn didn't wait. He charged straight at Alaric, wooden sword slicing through the air.
Alaric yelped, stumbling back. His staff swung up just in time—clack!—the sword bounced off. His arms rattled from the impact.
"Too slow!" Ryn shouted, swinging again.
Alaric scrambled, blocking clumsily. Each hit jarred through his tiny arms. His legs wobbled, threatening to give out.
Man, this is so unfair. He's taller, heavier, probably eats better too. Where's my handicap?!
"Focus!" Kael barked from the side.
Alaric gritted his teeth, golden eyes narrowing. Fine. If strength wasn't on his side… then maybe mana could make up for it.
He pulled on the life mana inside him, just a thread. The staff glowed faintly, warmth humming through the wood.
Ryn swung again—Alaric twisted, the staff sliding under the sword, pushing it aside. For the first time, Ryn's balance wavered.
Gasps rose from the crowd.
Alaric smirked. "Not bad, huh?"
Ryn growled, charging again. Their weapons clashed—wood against wood, sparks of mana humming in the air. Alaric's arms trembled, but he held on, stubborn fire keeping him upright.
Then Ryn shoved harder. Alaric stumbled, nearly falling.
Okay, nope, can't win in brute force. Gotta cheat.
He let mana pool at the bottom of his staff, then jabbed it into the ground. The moss there pulsed green, slippery under Ryn's feet.
The older boy yelped, sliding.
Alaric swung with all his might—whack! The staff smacked Ryn's side, knocking him onto the dirt.
Silence.
Then the yard erupted in shouts.
"He hit him!"
"The cursed boy won?!"
"No way!"
Alaric stood there panting, staff shaking in his hands. Sweat rolled down his pale face, dripping onto his messy white hair. But his grin stretched wide, cheeky and proud.
He pointed the staff at Ryn. "Who's the rabbit now?"
Ryn groaned on the ground, clutching his side.
Kael stepped forward, expression unreadable. His eyes flicked from Alaric to Ryn, then back. "…Winner: Alaric."
The crowd murmured louder, voices a mix of shock, curiosity, and disbelief.
Alaric's legs wobbled, his staff dropping back to the dirt. He collapsed onto his rear, laughing breathlessly. "Ha… I win… I actually won… Oh no, I think I broke my arms…"
Some of the children giggled. A few even looked impressed now, though others still whispered with unease.
Ashen hadn't moved from the edge of the yard the entire time. But his silver eyes lingered on Alaric, calm and steady. For just a second, his pale fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword—as if he was ready to step in at any moment.
Kael crouched in front of Alaric, sharp gaze softening just slightly. "You've got spirit, boy. That's good. But spirit without control will only get you killed."
Alaric, still sprawled in the dirt, smirked weakly. "Yeah, yeah. Heard that one before."
Kael snorted faintly, standing. "Rest. Tomorrow, we train again."
Alaric groaned, flopping backward dramatically. "Tomorrow… I'll be dead…"
The children laughed again, the tension broken.
But as Alaric stared up at the blue sky through the branches, his chest burned with something fierce.
He had survived. He had fought. He had won.
Even if his body was weak, even if everyone doubted him—he wasn't going to give up.
Not now. Not ever.